


Wicked

by JLBRD



Category: Atomic Blonde (2017), John Wick (Movies), Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: F/F, John's dog is in this, might have to bribe you people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLBRD/pseuds/JLBRD
Summary: "Retirement is boring and overrated."





	Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> honestly there was an outline at some point but somehow these characters ended up in this weird space full of plot holes together?? anyway fingers crossed that this is semi-coherent
> 
> headcanon where JW and Debbie are pretty much family, and Lorraine and Lou are sisters (idea pulled from a tumblr post)

It’s a typical Sunday night, and Lou absolutely hates that this is now what they call a typical Sunday night.

Her sister is in town after a classified MI6 operation went FUBAR, wanting to cool off with familiar company. So she claims; strange considering they haven’t been in touch for more than half their lives.

Lorraine Broughton seemingly dropped off the face of the planet years ago after they were adopted into different families. Naturally, they lost contact, but being in the Intelligence Service industry clearly has its perks as Lou found out with a knock at her door a week ago and an occupied guest room since then.

It’s certainly been an eventful few days with no rest in sight. The biggest series of crises she has to deal with involves a bored Debbie Ocean.

_“I’m so bored, Louise. Should we have kids? They’re life-long projects.”_

_“Ah, Jesus, you’re horrible. We should have children if we want them, and not because they will save you from perpetual restlessness from a dull life with me.”_

_“Nothing dull about you or our life together, baby. Trust me.”_

Luckily, she’s learned how to manage these episodes through years of partnership. She has put her to work at the club, fulfilling Debbie’s good citizen, living-a-simple-life promise.

That lasted about a week and a half before Debbie gave up on (mostly) honest labour and started swiping sleazy men’s cards and cash.

“Hell yeah, it’s what they deserve,” Nine and Constance nod their approval at this development, giving her high fives and fist bumps, the latter confusing Debbie, but gets the hang of.  
“You two need to stop encouraging her,” Lou rubs at her temple, thinking of what’s next on the agenda.

There was an attempt at going to and enjoying a farmer’s market which – surprising no one at all – went terribly. Tammy called them fake lesbians after what she deemed to be devastating news.

“Straight people enjoy fresh produce, too, but come on. Seriously? There’s so much to like.”

“I think the abundance of mentioned heteros squeezing fruits is the problem. We’ll stick to our... gay Chinese takeout, thanks. Let it be known that we also support local businesses.”

She suggested that Debbie take Tango classes, which stopped almost immediately since _“the instructor is an idiot and I already knew more than he ever will.”_

Thankfully, with her sister around, someone else can help Debbie stay productive and engage in intellectually stimulating conversations. The two have already spilled secrets, both in their chosen trades, and all about Lou. She can’t begrudge their already sibling-like bond when it’s the most entertainment she has experienced in a long time.

“You need to work on your German. It’s horrible. How are you a spy?”

“Oh, shut up. People keep telling me that, though. Probably what gave me away and gave me this fucked up blackeye, then. You think that’s why?”

“Well, it’s true and apparently bears repeating. It could have been other reasons, but your accent doesn’t help. Let’s go make some improvements.”

So, that’s what they did for hours, Lorraine actually progressing, until she left to do god-knows-what. _“Behave, you two. I don’t want to see either of your naked asses again, please,”_ _she teased before stepping out._

Dinner is well underway when they are suddenly interrupted.

“Wonderful. More crashers. Who’s coming now? Danny?”

“Right. Dead people don’t knock, everyone knows that. It’s something scratching at the door. Bears again, maybe? You have got to stop feeding them, honestly.”

“Remember when you distinctly asked me to feed those cubs because _‘they are adorable, honey. Look at them, and then look at our fridge full of food.’_ Because I remember.”

Debbie huffs since that’s exactly what happened. She follows behind Lou anyway with two forks in hand, looking completely ridiculous.

“Deb, what the hell? Grab a golf club or something more useful. You throwing forks at what is possibly a raccoon won’t have the same effect as you throwing it at another kid’s face in fourth grade. That just got you a suspension, this will get us an angry family of trash pandas! Do you even have your rabies shot?”

“Uh, I’m not an animal. Obviously, I do.”

“Why would that be obvious? Oh, is it from that time a Flemish bunny tried to attack you?”

“Stop bringing that up, Lou. Why do I tell you things?”

Their bickering stops short once they open the door and see who’s outside.

Or rather, what’s outside.

There, sitting on its haunches, is a panting grey pitbull. His head tilts, tongue out, and tail wagging steadily from the attention he’s getting.

They are frozen for a second, but then Lou bends down to greet him and check for a collar tag.

“Hey, buddy. What are you doing here? Whose dog are you?”

“Don’t touch him, he might be a trap!” Debbie whisper-yells, slapping Lou’s hand away.

“Don’t be ridiculous. A trap? Look at this face,” Lou coos, giving in and petting him. “See? I haven’t died.”

“Not yet, but I will kill you if we get fleas.”

“Okay, _princess._ What do we do?”

“Shame Lorraine left, she could tell us if this is a spy dog.”

Lou snorts and lets the pup trail behind them, Debbie’s suspicions be damned. _It’s just a dog. _She checks for anything he could eat for the night, see if they have any appropriate bowls.

Debbie plants herself on the couch, eyeing their new companion warily.

“You might have gotten to Lou, but you’re not fooling me.”

The dog’s previously serene form tenses, barking in response.

She hums thoughtfully, squinting and pointing a finger. “That’s right. I’m on to you.”

He whimpers, then trots over, resting his head on Debbie’s lap, looking up with glossy eyes.

Lou smirks, seeing the two curled up together.

There’s a scoff, but then she hears, “Well played. We are still not friends.”

****

They lounge around for a while. It’s early hours when there is a knock at the door, and Lou goes to answer. “I gave you a spare key for a reason, you know, Lor—"

“Miller.”

Debbie looks up at the voice, and Lou recovers after momentary shock.

“Nice suit, Jovanovich.”

“Thanks. It’s bulletproof.”

“Doesn’t seem like it is. Or was.”

“Yeah, well. Got it on discount. Should have known better.”

John sees his dog lounging on a beanbag. “I see the beast has made himself at-home already.”

“He has. He’s welcome to, same goes to you. Come in, I was looking to see what he can have, but no luck yet. I assume he’s not picky with food?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Ah, sure. I imagine the assassin tax bracket is pretty high up. Does he have a name?”

“He does not. Thanks,” he says when he’s handed a glass of water.

“Okay. I’ll let him pick one.” Lou sees that Debbie’s _generously_ shared some Lucky Charms and milk. Huh. He can’t be _that_ picky. “We shouldn’t feed him that shit. I’ll go to the store later today.”

“I see how it is. When I’m hungry, you get me takeout?”

“You’re a grown woman. And a rich one, might I add. I shouldn’t pay for your food anymore. Isaac here can’t cook for himself. Max? Archie?”

“_Isaac_, really? I don’t think he likes those names,” a paw bats at her hand, so she reaches out to scratch his head.

“We’ll figure it out together, bub, won’t we? Yes, we will.” Talking animatedly to the dog, who rolls on his back. “Go clean up, John. You look like shit.”

“I feel like it. Got any clothes I can borrow?”

“I’ll go leave some out for you.”

He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears his name.

“John? Where’d you get this little guy?”

“I stole him.”

“How fitting. Go on ahead. Third room to your right. Goodnight.”

****

Monday morning comes and none of them has to be anywhere in particular, so the loft wakes slowly, calmly welcoming the new day ahead.

John is the first to come downstairs, having not slept at all; threats to one’s life has that effect. The last few times he was in bed ready to sleep, he was attacked. So, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.

Debbie’s come to find out that the siblings can sleep in even through an apocalypse. Lou would only wake up in the absence of body heat beside her. Or a boob to cop a feel from. She hasn’t quite figured out the real reason yet.

Her musings are cut short by John’s appreciation of décor around the warehouse that she had a personal hand in.

“These vagina models are awesome, Ocean.”

“Thank you, I made them myself.”

“I’d be surprised at your investment in eccentric art, but you _are_ a woman of many interests.” He points at one and continues, “This one’s gotta be yours. Or Lou’s. An entire wall, though. Are the rest your prison hookups?”

“Very funny, asshole.”

“Hang on. How did he figure that out so quick?” Lou’s joined them by now, footsteps pattering to the kitchen to start a kettle, needing the caffeine to sound more outraged at this line of inquiry. “You slept with him when you were _how old?_”

John throws his hands up. “We didn’t. That one has details the others don’t, so it has to be one she’s well acquainted with. You know how she gets with her hyper fixation. She discovered woodworking and glass blowing when she was young. Pottery was a challenge since it required a lot more patience. Same with baking.”

“The last two are the only ones that don’t require, well, wielding weapons.”

“Exactly why those endeavours failed.”

Debbie glares. “Disagree. It’s not a failure if I can hit you both really hard with a baking pan.”

Lorraine has come downstairs despite a late night out, dog in tow. _The little traitor._ Both sprawl across the couch.

“Guten morgen,” she says through a yawn, closing her eyes again.

“Okay, what is up with the influx of stray assassins flocking to our doorstep?”

“You didn’t see the sign outside? _Centre for Felons, Welcome,_ I think it says. _Felons R Us? _I can't recall.”

“Lorraine gathers and keeps British secrets. She’ll never get convicted,” Debbie counters.

“Oh, you didn’t know? There was a massive sale on criminals. Buy one, get one free,” Lorraine laughs at her own bad joke. “Wick here is the one that came for free. I’m worth more than him, surely.”

“We did hear about the bounty,” followed by a fake pout. “15 mil? Real tragedy.”

“What can I say? I’m not worth nearly as much as either of you. Starting to realise I got into the wrong profession.”

“Lessons tend to come later, and the truth is often a slap in the face.”

Lorraine sits up and grabs at the proffered cup of tea. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’ve only lost a finger so deep in the mob world.”

“I’ve lost more than that, but I take your point.”

“No man should ever lose everything in the span of, what, a few weeks?” Lou wonders out loud.

“You would know all about that.”

They’re quiet after the blunt remark, but let the awkward silence settle and become comfortable enough to get to lighter topics.

“Alright, so, my dry cleaner is sick and tired of dealing with all the blood and debris, not to mention the rips and holes. Any advice? I can at least start cleaning things. Sewing will have to wait.”

“We have someone who can teach you how to sew. As for stains, there are tons of options.”

“Yes, but mainly, club soda is your best friend. Baking soda, vinegar, dishwashing liquid combined is the dream team for whites. Good for crime scenes, in a pinch, since you might not be able to get dinner reservations at the Continental anytime soon.”

“Yes. Thank you, I’ll keep these in mind.”

****

There is a vague revenge plan against members of the High Table involving fast cars, even faster motorcycles, elaborate weapons, and stealing confidential information to be used to their advantage.

(It’s been amusing seeing Lou wrinkle her nose every time Leslie and Lorraine blatantly flirt in front of them. She should have known a hacker would easily be an aphrodisiac to her sister.

_“Behave, you two. I don’t want to see either of your naked asses. Ever,”_ Lou warns them one time, and Lorraine cackles slightly.

_“Touché. I make no promises,”_ eyes full of mirth. She’s a vast upgrade from the French rookie.)

These operations are all in all on-brand with Lou’s and Debbie’s hobbies. To pass the time, Lou and John work on any mechanical contraption they can find in junkyards. They’re in the garage one afternoon, each working silently until Lou piped up with an observation. “You know, you’re not very good at retiring.”

John looks up at her and argues, “I could say the same about you two.”

“We’re working on it.”

“Does Debbie know that?”

She shrugs. “You want her on your side in this war.”

“You want her in the war at all?”

“I’ve survived this long by not telling her what to do. Anyway, retirement is overrated. Criminal masterminds should keep doing what they’re good at.”

And that was that.

Lou gestures vaguely at the collection in front of them. “Go take your pick. I’m not terribly precious about any of them. I know they’re going to either blow up or be abandoned.” She murmurs, _“Poor babies.”_

****

There's the wind whipping past blonde and brown locks, the open road, and an undisclosed location.

“I love road trips,” is sighed dreamily.

“You love committing crimes.”

“Never said I didn’t,” Debbie concedes. “Besides, the only illegal thing about what we’re doing is you in that tux jacket.”

“Charmer.”

“And can’t I love two things at once?”

“Of course, you can. You love me and John’s still unnamed dog – who we are not keeping, by the way.”

“Hmm. That’s fine. I can steal my own dog.”

“Not the point I was trying to make.”

“How about those kids I was talking about?”

It took some effort to swerve them away from death, but Lou managed as Debbie chuckled and held on tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @ jl-brd!


End file.
